


armor and bone

by summoner_yuna_of_besaid



Series: in the shadows [4]
Category: Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor (Video Game), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Middle-Earth: Shadow of War - Freeform, fade to black sex scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 10:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12629121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summoner_yuna_of_besaid/pseuds/summoner_yuna_of_besaid
Summary: Talion finds Celebrimbor's old armor, and the elf asks him to wear it.(Set in Shadow of War, with no spoilers.)





	armor and bone

Standing in the barrows of ancient elves, Talion had never felt so small.

It was a feeling he had been growing used to, this last year.  Celebrimbor never failed to remind him how little the scope of his life was.  It was never a cruel thing, but accidental, whenever the elf casually commented upon things and times so far beyond Talion he could scarce comprehend them.  This was one such thing – these great towering statues, the tombs of immortal ones, left alone for years upon years.

Talion bowed his head in reverence.  As he stepped through the hall, he felt more than saw Celebrimbor appear beside him. 

‘In the main sanctum, there should be gear we can use.’

“Am I to be a grave robber then?”  He said it light heartedly, but Talion did feel wrong, pilfering this place.

‘It is hardly robbery should the owner choose to pass it on.’  Celebrimbor smirked at him.  ‘You forget, you stand in my halls, before the graves of my people.  Any one of them would give their lives over again to see Sauron’s blight ended.’ 

As they ascended the stairs, Celebrimbor’s eyes swept the cold, dark room.  ‘This was our home, our Eregion,’ He murmured.  ‘Long before it turned dark and grim with shadow.  I will see it bright again, and free of Sauron’s stain.’

“So would I.”  Their gazes met, and Celebrimbor smiled.

‘I know.’

He approached the door, returning to it the words that had been stolen, and Talion watched in awe as the blue Ithilien lined up in perfect order, shining bright and beautifully.  The door fell open with a thunderous roar, as Celebrimbor spoke the words aloud.  It was in Sindarin, but Talion could hear and understand the meaning; he’d never heard poetry like this.

Not that the Rangers ever had much use for poetry.

‘Come,’ Once the dust had settled and the doors opened, Celebrimbor stepped inside. 

The room within was as grand and haunting as the first, though smaller, and centered upon one tomb.  Celebrimbor approached with the gait of one comfortable, at home; Talion entered as if he were unwanted, unsure of his place.  This felt wrong.  He was but a man, a mortal Ranger, and this place felt much greater than him.

‘Here,’ Celebrimbor gestured at the tomb.  ‘I feel it – it is within.  Take it Talion.’

The man blinked at him.

“You want me to rob this grave?”

Rolling his eyes, Celebrimbor approached the man.  ‘You are no thief in the night – you are a soldier, in need of armor, which this will provide.  Again, with my permission.  Think of it as a gift.’

It still felt wrong.  But Talion could tell the elf would not be swayed, and he’d never hear the end of it.  Sighing, Talion took to the coffin’s stone lid, and began to slide it away. 

“Seems strange,” He began.  “I did not think elves were ones to bury their dead in stone tombs, like dwarves.”

‘We are not.’  Unlike most of his kin, Celebrimbor did not freeze up or turn cold at the mention of dwarves.  He had more firsthand interaction with them than most.  ‘After Sauron was defeated by the Last Alliance, there was a time that men and elves returned to Mordor, clearing it of darkness, and recovering our lost lands.  There were so many dead, far too many to return home, and the land itself was a decaying wasteland.  The barrows were built to house these dead, who had fallen upon Mordor, and would find their rest in its ground.’

Just as the stone lid fell away, Talion heard Celebrimbor finish: ‘My own body was laid to rest, here.’

Talion couldn’t help the gasp that tore from his throat.  His gaze flew from the tomb to Celebrimbor, who stood stoic and stern on the opposite side of the cairn.  He nodded to the stone.  Speechless, Talion glanced down again.

“You… your armor.”  He recognized it, from memories, and from the image of the elf standing before him.  “Were you…?”

He nodded.  ‘After my death, Sauron took my body as a token to display before the elves in war.  Once he was defeated, it was long destroyed, but the armor remained.  In lieu of a physical form, the elves set this,’ He gestured to the blue and silver armor, still pristine after so long.  ‘To rest here.’  He frowned.  ‘It seems some pieces are missing… but the torso and chainmail, at least, are here.  They will benefit you greatly.’  The elf’s gaze darted over the torn and aging armor Talion wore now, made by men.  The sneer was present even in his words.  ‘It will be far preferable to the mockery you wear now.’

“Celebrimbor, you…”  Shocked, Talion leaned on the tomb for support.  “You want me to wear your armor?”

The elf snorted.  ‘No, I want you to display it in your keep.  Yes, wear it!  Elven craft is far strong than mortal kind, and it will stay all but the heaviest of blows.’

“I-“  Hesitating, he held up his arms.  “I couldn’t.  You said yourself, this was laid to rest for you!  It would be like – disturbing your peace.”

‘Yes,’ His voice curled with sarcasm in a way that never failed to make heat jump in Talion’s gut.  ‘Because I am very much at peace now.’

“Celebrimbor –“  Sighing, Talion shook his head.  “It would be wrong.”

The elf, leaning on the tomb himself, cocked his head.  ‘It is a gift.’

A gift… Talion shook his head and chuckled dryly.  He’d never received any gift as fine as this.  The armor was clearly in beautiful condition, almost pristine, even after so long in a dusty tomb, and presumably ages of war and strife before it.  It occurred to Talion suddenly that Celebrimbor died in this armor, that he had once worn it, fought it in, and he wanted Talion to have it.

Warring emotions struck his heart, and he struggled to compose himself.

‘Must we wait until Sauron rises again, or will you wear it?’

With a final sigh, Talion removed the armor from the cairn.  He turned away from the other – a useless gesture, which the elf apparently knew given the smirk and cock of his brow – but still Talion could not shake decades of habit.  He changed as quickly as he could, still in awe as the silver and blue slipped over him and fit so perfectly it seemed they had been made for him.  It was light weight, moreso than any armor he’d ever worn, as if it were a second skin.  Talion was awed at the craftsmanship, and had to admit, Celebrimbor was right.  This was the best armor he’d ever worn.

“It’s wonderful,” Grinning, he spun round.  “You were right.  I’ve never seen anything so magnificent.”

When silence met his words, Talion raised his head.  Heat spiraled inside him at the look the elf met him with – calculated, heated, and overjoyed.

‘Neither have I,’ The elf murmured, his gaze jumping to Talion’s.  For a moment he wondered if this was what prey felt like, caught in the sight of a predator, before Celebrimbor crossed the room, and was upon him.

They had learned some time ago that, being connected as they were, Celebrimbor did not need a body to touch him.  His hands and nimble fingers were as real to Talion as the earth beneath his feet.  His lips were cool and yet burned like spices, as they pressed firmly against his own, chapped and blistered as they were.  Celebrimbor never complained; his arms found their way around Talion’s waist and pulled him in, demanding.

“Y – You seem to be enjoying this,” Talion managed between gasps.  His hips were caught between Celebrimbor’s long legs, and the wall behind him, and he found he did not mind.  “Does this not seem – disrespectful?”

‘Hardly.  It is my tomb, after all.’  He felt the smile against his throat before ghostly teeth sunk into his neck, and he moaned loud enough it echoed through the whole chamber.  ‘And you… here, in my armor…’  The elf leaned away, his eyes roaming Talion’s body as if he were a prize on display.  Heat rose to the man’s cheeks as his breathing became labored.  ‘It affects me more than I had thought it would.’

“I – I, as well.”  The thought that this had belonged to Celebrimbor… that it was a real, physical tie to who he’d been, when he was alive… he’d worn it, fought in it, bled in it… and the elf had wanted Talion to wear it.  He felt touched, humbled, and strangely heated at the very idea of doing so.  Wearing it now, he only wanted Celebrimbor to take it off him again.

‘Come,’ The elf tugged him from the wall, towards the…

“You cannot be serious!”  The ardor dimmed somewhat, as Talion saw the elf was drawing him towards the cairn.  “Do you not think it somewhat grim, to be laying together on your own grave?”

‘We are both dead.  What do graves matter to us?’  Undisturbed, Celebrimbor stepped into it, and raised his hands to the other.  Talion was not so sure.

“I –“ Huffing, he sighed, and took the elf’s hands.  “You are ridiculous.”  The elf merely laughed, pressing Talion down and into the cairn, resting overtop him.  It was large enough that Talion had enough space to move, but not too far, and the raised sides darkened his vision even further.  All he could see, all he could feel, was Celebrimbor.

 

* * *

 

Afterwards, laying in the dark, with his lover resting beneath his skin, Talion was left alone to his thoughts. 

His hands ran slowly over the metal and cloth on his body, the ancient armor, which had once housed one so dear to him.  How strange it seemed, that some thousand years ago this was his, Celebrimbor’s, which Talion now wore.  He wished he could have seen him then, could have known him as a living man, and the elf as a Lord, with no Dark Lords or magic rings at work in the world.

Sighing, Talion sat up, stretching his muscles sore from work and combat, now somewhat looser from their – activities.  It would never cease to amaze him, this ancient, wise elf taking a carnal interest in himself.

‘Do not doubt yourself so,’ The voice murmured into his ear, not quite present, but always there.  The tickle on his ear set his skin alight.  Talion hummed.

“You can hardly blame me.  I could never imagined this.”  He stepped into the main room, still looking in awe to all that was around him.  “I could never have imagined you.”

Celebrimbor appeared behind him, and Talion turned, drawn to his presence.  ‘Nor I, you.’  The elf approached.  ‘You forget all that we have done, all that you have done.  Few men would have risen to the occasion as you have.  Few would have accepted me, and the work we have done.  You have sacrificed so much, and fought so fiercely.’  An ephemeral hand traced his jawline.  ‘Never forget – I am the one who was blessed, when we met.’

He can’t quite believe that.  But the words warm his heart anyway, as he steps out into the bitter darkness of Mordor.


End file.
